


Steam

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Noctis will swear that he's not jealous when Gladio directs his attentions elsewhere.





	Steam

“I’m not jealous.” Noctis rolled his eyes as he cleaned up after the training session. Ignis helping him up from the grass of the training yards before gathering up their equipment. “I’m not.”

It would have been easier to train inside the Citadel walls. To practice properly without the audience of Crownsguard recruits and cadets gathered at the distant edge of the course. Perched at the barrier made by the chalk lines in the soft grass, where they could see their Crown Prince move and work and get his ass handed to him by the retainer they often saw leaving the meetings and conference rooms of the Citadel. Now they watched, gathered like an unwanted audience, as Noctis gathered up the training polearms and swords to secure them back to their stands, the dull wave of conversation, commentary, passing from one spectator to the next. 

With only Gladiolus holding them back with a charming smile and some indulgent chatter. 

“And yet you let yourself get distracted, Noct.” Ignis dropped his personal training daggers into his bag, checking each dulled, rounded edge for new scuffs and chips that might need work later. “Gladio is just friendly.”

“He shouldn’t be,” Noctis muttered, trying to dust himself off from the session. They had wanted to work within set parameters— the Citadel allowed them freedom and movement, pillars to hide behind and warp to, shadows to use as cover. They had wanted to stretch out a little more, with fewer distractions and more honest combat on a surface that wasn’t the padded practice mats or polished stone. “He’s supposed to be intimidating.”

Ignis smiled as he shouldered his bag, intent on the showers. “What’s more intimidating than a man of Gladiolus’ size and immediate appearance?”

“Anything.” Noctis picked up his own bag, having declined an offer in the looming shadow of the stately Crownsguard Academy. The lawns were lined with people he was trying to ignore, most gathered around Gladio as his Shield— intended to be the most feared warrior in the kingdom— smiled and chatted to the students gathered close, hoping for a closer glimpse of the Crown Prince. “Gladio! You coming?”

The raised hand in response was enough to have Noct scowling at the locker room door as he stalked off to the cover of the building. He could feel Ignis’ smug amusement radiating off of him, and was met with a simple smile and shrug when he tried to glare it out of him. 

“I’m not jealous.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m not.”

“He simply radiates that sort of confidence,” Ignis offered, already stripping down to take advantage of the empty showers. “Much like a large puppy.”

Noctis barely registered his response until Ignis was laughing at him for it. Until he was blushing and berating himself for it. “He’s supposed to be my puppy.”

Ignis cleaned up quick, noted that there was a potion in Noctis’ bag if he needed it. Noctis ignored the offer, scrubbed at the grass stains on his skin and the scratches left by a bad fall or an improper defence. He heard the door open and close, but barely glanced up when Gladio exchanged roles with Ignis— whatever words muttered between them muted by the shower as Noctis peeked out from the open doored stalls. 

“Need some help in there, highness?” Gladio smirked at the sight of Noctis, scrubbing at persistent scuffs and smears of grass and dirt. 

“No. Go away.”

“Gotta make you look presentable, though. Right?” 

“Shouldn’t you be chatting up some innocent cadet?”

Noctis wanted to ignore the chuckle that echoed through the room over the sound of the water. He wanted to ignore the feel of Gladio watching him, and the sounds of clothes being removed. He wanted to ignore the gentle hand on his back in warning, before Gladio reached around him for the soap and cloth, boxing him into the stall beneath the warm spray of water. “Don’t be jealous, highness.”

“I’m not.”

“You hate all my pick up lines, anyway.”

“You were using your pick up lines?”

“No,” Gladio drew the cloth and lather across Noctis’ shoulders, followed by quick kisses. Noctis huffed his annoyance but leaned back into the attentions. “I save those for you.”

It was safe like this— caged in by Gladio, beneath the warmth of the water as the adrenaline from the training session drained out. He could reach up, to trace the unfinished lines of Gladio’s tattoo— tracing the outlines of long feathers that trailed across toned muscle. Or down to be more demanding. To reassert his claim on his Shield’s attention. He settled for pressing back against Gladio in the small space in invitation, braced one arm against the shower stall wall. 

“Not ideal, highness,” Gladio reached around him to replace the cloth, to let his own hands wander. “Iggy will kill us if he walks in.”

“He’d only kill you. I’m safe.”

“Brat.”

“Brute,” Noctis smirked over his shoulder, catching the affection in Gladio’s look. Catching that consuming interest, attention. And he made the offer again. “Please.”

“Can’t resist you like that,” Gladio muttered, and moved to brace Noctis more steadily, carefully. “You got nothing to be jealous over, Noct. I’m yours.”

“Good.”


End file.
